Time Turns To Amber
by RoyalCordelia
Summary: The lines between universes is blurred when Anne Shirley of Green Gables switches lives with Ann Shirley-Cuthbert, a university student living in thr contemporary world. Anne must learn to navigate the modern world, one which contains a boyfriend, a part time job, and another year of university. Meanwhile, Ann struggles to tackle corsets and country living. Can they make it home?
1. Parallel Roads (Part I)

**_Note: My style of writing AOGG fic is typically book heavy with some influence from the show Anne with an E. There are a few characters from the show that don't appear in the book, but you don't need to be acquainted with them to understand this work. Other than that, it's mostly book material._**

 **I'm so thrilled to finally be posting this first chapter. This fic has been stewing in my head for weeks, so I hope you're as excited as I am to begin this adventure.** **This story will consist of chapters in alternating perspectives - one of them being a historical Anne (the Anne we know and love from the books) and the other being a modern Anne (similar to the Anne of GGF, except spelled Ann). The first two chapters will give us some insight to where each separate girl is in their lives, and this first chapter begins in the historical setting before the switch has occurred. I hope this has clarified your understanding a little!**

Standing in the darkness of the ballroom corner, Anne Shirley watched the dancing couples fly across the room in a flurry of whirling skirts to the rhythm of the waltz. Everything had gone according to plan: the preparations, the ceremony, and thus far, the reception. Anything less than perfect would not have been adequate. Diana Barry deserved the best, after all. That went without saying.

The ceremony was certainly right out of a daydream, with its flower garlands, string quartet, and crystalized colors echoing on the walls like dancing shadows from the chandeliers. Dozens of compliments were paid directly to Miss Josephine Barry, who'd a knack for planning elaborate celebrations and did so annually. But none of the previous soirees or banquets could compare to this magnificent occasion, planned for the bride by her most kindred spirit. Anne had truly outdone herself.

She really should have been happy. After all, she'd never heard of a wedding that didn't have at least _some_ small little blunder to speak of. But Anne couldn't help but feel a little bit...well, she might as well come out and admit it - she was jealous.

In the privacy of her own mind, Anne mourned how right the event was. Diana made the _perfect_ bride, and contrary to Anne's expectations, Jerry Baynard wasn't all that shabby of a Prince Charming. Each polished spoon and lacy white decoration only suited Diana's passage into wifehood. Here in this bridal castle, alive with celebration and exuberance, Diana was the queen - queen over a man who adored the very ground she walked on, queen over her new household, queen over a lifetime of happiness. The most beautiful queen that had ever been born in Avonlea.

Anne, on the other hand, felt like a homely side ornament for Diana. She could never hope for such grand celebrations on her behalf. Certainly, Aunt Jo had told her that if she chose to remain unmarried, she could earn the money to host such a celebration, but Anne had a feeling it wasn't going to be her choice.

If she were to tell the truth, she'd say that she really did yearn for a married life. She ached for a lifemate, her partner and equal. Perhaps it was selfish, but Anne had hoped in the weeks leading up to Diana's wedding that if some small little thing went wrong, it would mean Diana's wedding wasn't to be a seamlessly perfect event. No such inconvenience occurred, and Anne was forced to face the reality that girls like Diana were meant to have resplendent weddings. Girls like Anne were left to have no weddings at all.

"You know, you seem rather dejected for a girl whose best friend is the midst of the happiest day of her life," a deep, familiar voice said beside her. Anne didn't have to look away from the waltzing guests to know who it was, but merely leaned her head onto his shoulder.

"I'm not _dejected_ , Cole. I wanted nothing less for Diana today. If I did, I wouldn't have planned everything so…" Anne sighed. "Dazzlingly exquisite."

"Then why are you radiating such dark waves, oh picture of joy?"

Anne did look to Cole then, and she could tell immediately that he knew what ill feelings plagued her heart. He simply wanted her to tell him herself, to speak her mind instead of brewing alone in her sorrow.

"The last few weeks of planning this wedding and seeing how Jerry and Diana truly complete one another has made me realize that I am not the marrying sort."

Cole frowned.

"You don't want to get married?"

"No, I _do,_ but can you imagine someone looking at me like _that_?" Anne looked over at Diana and Jerry dancing blissfully in each other's arms. There was no denying the adoration in Jerry's eyes, how his love for Diana blossomed from the center of his heart and grew throughout his entire body like a blinding light. "It's simply impossible."

"Oh Anne," Cole reprimanded gently. "Someone does look at you like that. Only every time he does, you pretend not to notice."

"Not this again," Anne moaned, turning her back to him. "No matter how many times you say it, it doesn't get any more true. Gilbert Blythe does not care for me like that."

"Shall I provide you proof? Look at him with Moody over there. Go on, Anne, look."

Anne's heart dropped to the floor when she finally gained the courage to look up

Gilbert Blythe was a sight to behold, with his suit all primly pressed for his best-man duties. The contours of his face were lit by the warm chandelier light, making his cheeks look like sunsets of gold and rose. Just to gaze upon him made Anne feel strangely unsatisfied, as if there was something missing, a hole that was craving to be filled. With what, though?

It only seemed to worsen when he gazed back at her, an unfortunate circumstance for the present moment. True to Cole's prodding, Gilbert's eyes were locked on her in an intense fashion that she could always feel on the back of her neck. The connection of their gazes lit Anne into red fire, and for a few moments she sat there simmering, aching. She hoped he would look away first because she couldn't find it within herself to move, but instead he only smiled. No coy, teasing wink. No smirk of boyish taunting. Genuine affection that Anne could feel as presently inside her as if he were standing just before her brushing hair away from her face.

"Now, I think that has put an end to your nonsense," Cole murmured into her ear. Anne felt more heat flood into her rosy cheeks when she realized her friend had watched the silent exchange. "Go dance with him."

"N-no," Anne stammered shakily. Somehow she couldn't bring herself to admit that he was wrong, not when Gilbert was looking at her like _that._ "I think I'll go steal a dance with the bride."

As Anne ventured through the room, she wanted nothing more than to lock herself away in a room with Diana and speak all that was on her mind. But there were to be no more late nights with her bosom friend, no more jumping on beds or pretending to be princesses. Those days were buried in a distant past, and had been for years.

Oh, why did everyone have to grow up and change? Why did Diana have to get married and leave her forever? And _why_ did Gilbert insist on looking at her as if she was the most precious thing he'd ever seen?

Diana might have sensed the raging storm in Anne, had she not swallowed it in time for Diana to lay eyes on her. The endless beauty of bridal white and crystals spun to greet Anne with a euphoric grin.

"Mr. Baynard, I do think you have been monopolizing your darling wife far too long this evening," Diana teased, extending her hand to Anne. "For the next dance, I believe her interests lie elsewhere. Anne, have you room on your dance card?"

"I'd be delighted," Anne said with a chuckle. The two spun away with an explosion of very unladylike laughter, too busy desperately holding onto one another to correctly perform the steps of the waltz. Eventually, their giggles subsided and Anne pulled Diana close into her arms.

"Anne, what's wrong, dearest? If you hold onto me any tighter, I think I'll turn to dust," Diana said gently. Anne only squeezed a little and buried her face into Diana's shoulder.

"You know, I always wanted a sister. Now I have one and I already have to let you go so soon."

"Come on Anne, you know you'll see me just as much as you always did! I'm not going to let married life get in the way of our friendship. You're just as much my family as Jerry is."

"My mind knows it, Diana, but my heart refuses to see reason. I feel like my feet are glued to the center of the world and everything is moving so fast around me. I can't catch up."

"You'll figure everything out, Anne," Diana comforted. She ran a comforting hand down Anne's head, and it was all the redhead could do to not let tears trickle down her face. Pulling back, Diana took Anne's face in her gentle hands and Anne had a stray thought that Diana would make the most spectacular mother one day.

"I know in my heart that your feet will get unstuck soon. Next thing you know, we'll be planning _your_ wedding." Diana's eyes glanced over to where Gilbert was standing with Jerry, the pair of lads watching the girls dance.

"Not you too," Anne muttered, pulling back. "I simply cannot fathom why everyone believes I should marry Gilbert Blythe."

"Oh, Anne, I didn't mean to upset you. You just seem so taken with him these days. You've spent practically every day together at Redmond studying, even though you're both enrolled in different programs! With your graduation just completed, we've all assumed that his proposal was inevitable and-"

Anne had heard quite enough, and was quick to intercept whatever terrible thing was about to come out of Diana's mouth.

"Look at that, Diana! Jerry is positively glaring at me. It seems I have stolen away his wife away for too long. I think I'll go get some fresh air on the veranda. Aunt Jo says the view of Charlottetown all lit up is positively breathtaking. I'll return shortly."

"But Anne!" Diana tried to reach for her, but Anne was too quick to press a kiss to her cheek and scurry away.

The escape wasn't very genteel in nature, but the feeling of fresh cool air in her lungs crashed into her like the summer tide. With the sun safely set beneath the island horizon, the breeze had taken a slight chill that cooled Anne's skin from the lace of her own white dress. Aunt Jo's veranda was truly as magnificent as the rest of the estate, with its view over the city and white marble columns.

Shuffling up to the edge of the balcony, Anne leaned at the railing and tilted her face up to the stars.

"Will you align for me, too?" she asked all the flickering stellar brilliance. Maybe her luck had run dry the day Marilla decided to allow her to stay at Green Gables. Anne shook her head - that was a terribly ungrateful thought to have. She'd never exchange her life at Green Gables for anything. But now that she had tasted happiness, was she to now go without it for the rest of her life? Was her happiness meant to stay stagnant where it was when she was the fresh age of eleven, never to grow?

Suddenly, her thoughts came to a screeching halt.

His presence was tangible behind her, though she didn't hear him come outside. She waited for his to say something, expectant when he finally called out to her.

"Anne, I've come to see if you're feeling alright. You looked pale when you left," Gilbert said gently into the night air.

"Just a bit lightheaded. It's dreadfully warm in there with all the lights and people and dancing," Anne lied. If she was at all dizzy, it was because even from here she could smell the spicy, earthy scent of him from across the balcony. It was enough to make her knees weak. Gilbert knew Anne well enough to see through the lie, but also knew when to allow her to keep her secrets.

"Alright," Gilbert he replied carefully. He paused, as if deciding what to do, then cleared his throat. "Would you like some company?"

Against her better judgement, Anne replied with a smile, "Always."

Gilbert fell by her side, leaning his elbows on the railing just inches away from hers. Hunched over, Anne saw the lines of his back, the strength of his shoulders, the moonlight in his hair. The universe certainly was trying its best to paint this man as her ideal, she realized. Never before had Gilbert been so capable of appearing so melancholy and handsome. The girls of Redmond college certainly said otherwise. It was truly unfair that forces unknown should tempt her with her own preferences in a man that was so very...not her preference - at least romantically. Gilbert was her preference in a conversation partner, dinner company, a friendly rival, and a best friend. In fact, she rather preferred his company more than anyone else's with the exception of Diana.

"What's on your mind, Anne-girl?" he asked finally, peering up at her with those hazel eyes that sometimes her dreams tormented her with.

"Anne-girl?" she replied with a chuckle.

"I heard Miss Barry call you that earlier. I like it." He nudged her shoulder with his. "Don't think I don't notice you sidestepping the question."

"I'm not! It's just that nothing particular is on my mind."

Gilbert quirked a brow, thoroughly unconvinced.

"Given the events of today, I find that impossible to believe." Anne was silent for a moment, her fingers fiddling with the smooth ivy that engulfed the railing.

"Oh alright," Anne gave in with a sigh. She knew she could trust Gilbert with some of the aches in her heart, if not the aspects that had to do with him. "When we were children, I suppose I always foolishly assumed that Diana and I would find happiness around the same time. That fate had us traveling parallel roads."

"You're not happy?" Worry sent a frown on his lips that made Anne feel a little guilty.

"I'm happy enough," she admitted. "Oh, I feel like a dreadful person. Pretend I never said anything."

"I'll do no such thing!" Gilbert straightened his back and turned to face Anne head on. "Not until you tell me what's bothering you."

Anne crossed her arms over her chest, averting her gaze from his. What was the point in telling him? There wasn't a single thing he could do to point her on the right path. Nevertheless, she opened her mouth and it was like an electric switch had been flipped.

"Everyone is growing up and deciding what they want to do with their lives. Meanwhile, odd Anne Shirley is weeks into her graduate life and has no idea where her place is in the world. With Diana married, she won't have any time to spare for me, I just know it! And Jane is planning on spending the summer in England for missionary work. Even Marilla and Mrs. Lynde have been organizing a Lady's Aid for the church, and have barely been home. Everyone is doing something with their lives and I can't seem to make up my mind about anything. Not about my vocation, not about you-"

She froze, hoping that if she covered her tracks soon enough, he wouldn't catch the little slip, but he was too quick. Gilbert had gained some wisdom about Anne in their years at college, and decided to pretend he heard nothing - even if it did make his heart skip a bit to replay it in his mind.

"I think I know how you feel," he admitted.

"Now that can't be true, Gil. You've known about what you've wanted to do since our schooldays."

"Maybe in general, but certainly not specifically. There are many branches of medicine, you know. I could specialize in the brain or in general practice, if I wanted. Something tells me I'll make a wonderful surgeon, but I'm not sure if that's what I want."

"I suppose that's what medical school is for, is it not?"

"It's not just that," Gilbert grumbled, a bit frustrated with himself. Anne turned to him and searched for his eyes. She hadn't seen any of this turmoil in him before, and they saw each other practically every day. "I have what you would call an ideal in my head of what I want my future to be. There's a white house on the shore, trees, children, laughter and fun…"

Anne dropped her gaze to the ground. That sounded an awful lot of what she'd always dreamed of as well. Unaware of her embarrassment, Gilbert continued.

"I want a simple country practice, Anne. I want to be a reliable, compassionate doctor. Someone the people can trust."

"You'll have all those things, Gilbert. I know that for certain." He was like Diana - favored by the stars and by fate. Handsome and smart, there was no way he'd ever lack in happiness or success.

"But there's something important missing right now, and I'm afraid that if I don't gain it now, if I don't earn it, then my life will always be lacking true happiness."

For a split moment, Anne wondered what it could possibly , she looked up at him and her heart halted in her chest. The deepest parts of her soul gave a sigh of anticipation and yearning at the desire in his eyes, like it wanted to be consumed by him. The sensation was overwhelming and foreign, leaving Anne stranded at his side unsure of what to believe and feel. Gilbert took her silence to muster his courage and ask something he wanted to know above all.

"What did you mean before about not being able to make up your mind about me?"

Even in her indecisiveness, Anne knew that this conversation was about to cross a line that she wasn't prepare to travel over. His eyes were too intense, begging, serious.

"Gilbert, it was nothing. Can we pretend I never said anything in the first place?" Gilbert took a step closer to her, and Anne countered with a few stumbling feet backwards until she was pressed against the railing of the veranda.

"If that's what you want, Anne, but avoiding me like this isn't going to help you settle on any decisions. If you're not honest with me or with yourself, you're never going to make up your mind about what you want in life."

"And just _what_ do you think I want, Gilbert Blythe?"

"I think you want someone to stand beside you and love you. I think you want someone to be your equal and support you no matter what path in life you decide to traverse, just so that you won't be alone when fate tosses you around." Anne fought back the urge to touch the redness of his cheeks, keeping her fists clenched at her side as he continued. "I've not been honest with you all these years, Anne. Not completely."

The truths of her mind and heart overcame her for a moment and she whispered in a silent plea, "I already know, Gil. You don't need to say it."

"I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't. Anne, I-"

She quieted him in the only way that she could. She grabbed him by the collar, pulled herself up onto the balls of her feet, and kissed him. The second her lips made contact with his, Anne felt herself dissolving, but Gilbert wrapped his arms around her before her knees could crumble. She wrapped one around his shoulder, pulling him closer until there was no space for secrets, fears, or longings between them. It was an overwhelming onrush of sensations, with his mouth kissing her with the unrestrained passion he'd locked inside for years and his fingertips gently caressing her cheeks and down her neck. Anne let herself surrender to the need to remain in his embrace, safe and loved, ignoring the cries in her mind that she shouldn't be doing this. This was _Gilbert Blythe,_ childhood confidant, loyal kindred spirit.

But oh, she could suddenly imagine very simply being a doctor's wife and having a curly haired, hazel-eyed family. The images came to her mind without any resistance at all - a white house surrounded by dozens of wildflowers, a neat little corner to write in, a husband who looked dreadfully like Gilbert. She could see it all, and she wanted it.

She wanted it enough to let him trail kisses down the soft lines of her chin and down her neck, leaning into him when she felt she might melt into him completely. The sensitive skin erupted into shivers when he lingered at the cleft of her throat, and she ran her fingers through his soft hair.

Then, with a shaky exhale, Gilbert lifted his head back up and looked into her half-lidded eyes.

"I love you," he said quietly, reverently.

Reality came crashing back onto Anne, and she fought the urge to tear herself out of his arms and run away. Any hopes and dreams she'd drowned in while he kissed her were gone now, replaced by her own logic.

"I...I don't know how I feel, Gilbert," she confessed in a frightened whisper. "There's so much I don't understand about myself, so much I haven't decided or discovered. And then there's Roy to consider. He's-"

" _Roy?_ " Gilbert nearly spat. He knew all about Royal Gardner - the wealthy, melancholy English student who had been vying for Anne's affection since the day he'd offered her his umbrella in a storm. He sent Anne flowers, composed sonnets to her eyes, showered her in gentlemanly praise. He also _despised_ Gilbert, and once openly blamed him for his own failure to capture Anne once and for all.

"Yes, Roy. He cares for me so, and I sometimes I think I must care about him too." It was a dagger in Gilbert's heart and he set his jaw. "But then there's _you_ , Gil."

"What about me?" he replied flatly.

"I don't know yet." Anne took a steadying, shaky breath. "I need time."

"We're running low on time, Anne. Gardner is going to want an answer before you move back to Avonlea."

"What about you?" Anne said, crossing her arms in front of her chest as if to hold her beating heart from breaking out of her.

"I'd wait forever," he vowed in a low tone. "I'd rather _not,_ but if you need time, Anne. You'll have it from me."

"Alright," Anne said, inhaling late spring air. She gave one last look at Gilbert and his red lips and mussed hair, all effects of the kiss that still had her vibrating with something unknown. Reaching forward, Anne straightened his tie and collar, effectively restoring him to a presentable state, then ran her thumb over his cheek. The skin was damp, whether from sweat or a stray tear, she didn't know. Then she distanced herself a few steps away.

"Enjoy the rest of the celebration, Mr. Blythe."

He watched her evaporate into a silhouette against the lighted doorway leading to the manse, artwork in the frame of the present, the past, and a barely attainable future.

/

Diana and Jerry left for Toronto for their honeymoon at dawn, leaving Anne waving after their departing faces on the morning train.

"Our train is next," Gilbert said, adjusting his suitcase in his hand.

Anne hadn't been able look him in the eye since their accidental tryst at the wedding the night before. In fact, she hadn't been able to sleep, think straight, or look at herself in the mirror without picturing the passionate embrace she'd initiated in the moonlight. She rather wondered if it had happened at all, since Gilbert had mastered the art of acting as if nothing had happened.

"I think I'm going to take a walk up the tracks and enjoy the morning sun for a few minutes. These warm days are so freshly new to us, you know," she said.

Gilbert knew precisely what she was trying to do. He flashed her a look in his eyes that said very clearly, _You can't avoid me forever, but have it your way,_ and then nodded.

"Would you like me to come find you a few minutes before the train arrives?"

"No, I should be able to keep track of time well enough by the shadows."

Gilbert wasn't convinced. He pulled a copper pocket watch from inside his coat and handed it to Anne. She held it up to her ear and listened to the emphatic ticking. It was plain in appearance, but she'd seen it enough times to know that it had once belonged to John Blythe. She even knew where his initials had once been engraved on the side, now rubbed away with time and wear.

"Here, for security's sake. Marilla will have my hide if I'm late in getting you home," Gilbert continued.

"Thanks," she said, biting her lip under his gaze. "I won't be gone long."

As she headed down the railway platform and into the loose grass, Anne couldn't help but feel as she were walking away from something forever, like the last pages of a book before the cover finally is closed. She stopped and turned back to see Gilbert standing on the platform looking after her with his hands in his pockets.

He raised one hand and waved. Anne, forgetting for a minute the events of the past night, smiled and returned the gesture.

Then she turned her cheeks to the summer fragrance being carried on the wind, and walked along the worn railside.


	2. Parallel Roads (Part II)

**Originally, the set-up chapter for Modern Ann was going to be one chapter, but since I'm starting from scratch with this chapter, it'll be two chapters. As always, I hope you enjoy!**

If the circumstances had been different, Ann might've secretly wished to never move from this spot. Where else was better than this corner of the world with its enduringly beautiful Avonlea sunsets and comfortable July breeze? She also didn't mind leaning up against the armrest of the plush porch swing with her legs on Gilbert's lap. Her eyes fell on him and the one hand that rested on her leg, the other typing something into his phone.

"Alright, Ann-girl. I've successfully hacked into your bluetooth speakers. The music choice is yours," he said. His fingers ran up the skin of her leg in a particularly gentle caress, sending chills down her nerves.

"Gilbert Blythe letting someone else choose the music for once? The world must be ending."

" _Ha ha,_ " he replied sarcastically. "Maybe I'll blast something raunchy and obscene so that even Rachel Lynde blushes two miles away."

"You _wouldn't_ ," Ann gasped. Temptation slipped into his face, but drained away as quickly as it came.

"Not today I wouldn't," Gilbert admitted. Not with Matthew in the hospital in the middle of an open heart surgery after a small stroke he'd had in the fields early the day before. With Matthew condemned to the ICU, Marilla was glued to his side. She insisted that Ann stay home, an assertion that the 22-year-old redhead rebutted with a fierce conviction. But then Marilla began to cry, and Ann realized that the cost of this battle was more than she was willing to pay.

She called Gilbert, who arrived almost instantaneously to drive her home, and the rest was history - less than a day of moving through the house with the ghost of Matthew following her and the eminence of the inevitable looming over her head. The only thing that kept her eyes from glazing over completely was Gilbert's kind presence at her side - humble and empathetic. What would she do without him, her very best friend who cooked her comfort food and held her when she felt she'd drown in worry?

He was one of the only people who understood her. He was the only one that could have known that when her eyes burned from so many tears that the cure was the spirit of the island in its sunset and summer wind. Only Gilbert could have known that the one place she could rest was on the veranda of her home, swaying on her favorite porch swing and listening to her favorite music.

"Hey, where have you wandered off to?" Gilbert asked gently, scratching his fingers into the skin behind her ear. "You've been staring at Hozier's album cover for a good minute now."

"What can I say? I love to appreciate art," she replied weakly, pressed play, then handed Gilbert his phone. As the opening notes of "In a Week" hummed from the small speaker set on the porch railing, Ann shifted so that her head was buried in his neck and his arms could wrap around her like a protective shield.

Yes, if circumstances had been different, she'd be running away from her rapid heartbeat and the peace of being the recipient of many head kisses. And Gilbert would let her flee, knowing that she would have to do it if they wanted to keep this pretense of friendship free from his growing feelings. It certainly wouldn't be the first time it had happened.

But for now, this was okay. Matthew was going to be okay, too. They repeated it in their heads, a simultaneous and silent mantra.

When Marilla called Gilbert's phone later that evening, Ann had already been pulled down by the last purples of the sunset into sleep. She didn't stir when the folksy melodies had turned to the tritone chime of his ringtone. Gilbert, confident that Ann was deep in the reprieve of a dream, answered the call.

"Hello?" There was a pause, then - "Oh, hey Miss Cuthbert. No, no, everything's okay. We didn't hear the house phone because we've been on the porch...Yeah, she's asleep." There was another pause, a sigh of relief from Gilbert that carried an entire day's weight with it. "That really is great news, Marilla. I'll tell her as soon as she wakes up. We'll be here when you get home. Is there anything you needed done before then?...Are you sure?...Yeah, you too. Bye."

Gilbert set his phone down and pressed a kiss to Ann's hair.

"Look at that, Ann-girl," he whispered into perfumed strands. "Looks like Matthew's going to be okay after all."

/

Ann believed that if the world was against her, she had acclimated to its cruelty. She had developed a sixth sense for predicting whether a single moment would tear apart the peace of the present, or bring days worth of joy.

When Gilbert's name lit up across her phone at three in the morning, paired with the chimes of a phone call, Ann's sixth sense told her to steel herself.

"Hey Gil," she answered, voice groggy. "Everything alright?"

She was met with silence for a few seconds, long enough that Ann began to wonder if Gilbert had really meant to call her at all. Maybe he'd been dreaming or slept with his phone in his hand and -

" _Ann, can you -"_ his voice broke off and she heard him swallow. " _I'm sorry to wake you up."_

The strain in his voice was enough to stir her awake completely, and she sat straight up in bed.

"Gilbert, what's wrong?" She heard a sharp inhale, a few indistinct voices in the background, some strange beeping noises, then a shuddering exhale.

" _My dad was...he's….he was in an accident. Th- There was nothing they could do."_

Ann deflated as if a massive weight had fallen on her chest. She pulled the phone away from her face, almost as if to hide the whimper that came from her lips and the tears welling up in her eyes. Gilbert's father was all the family he had left. There were no uncles, no grandparents, no long lost cousins.

And now there was just Gilbert - the last, the only. Her heart split down the center at the thought of him living the way she'd had to, orphaned and lonely.

"Gilbert, I…" A tear slid down her cheek and she swallowed the lump in her throat. "Where are you? I'm already on my way."

She found him in a waiting room of the Carmody hospital, thirty minutes outside of Avonlea by car. He was slumped in a chair against the wall in the corner of the sterile space, pale faced and red eyed. Ann waited in the doorway, wondering if she should break his quiet grieving, only to have him look up through heavy lashes.

Ann didn't have to be told what to do then. In a moment she was kneeling before him and wrapping him in an embrace that she hoped would shield him from the anguish closing in around him. His stiff arms came around her in an instant, his face pressed into the comfort of the crook of her neck.

"It's alright, I got you," she soothed. Gilbert let out a quiet whimper fingers digging into the soft fabric of her shirt.

They stayed like that for a while, Ann rubbing his back and soothing him as he wept. She couldn't ask him what happened, only able to ask one of the passing nurses once Gilbert had gotten up to use the bathroom and wipe off his face. John Blythe had been in a car crash driving home from his job late that night, the nurse told her.

"There are only two types of people on the road that late," the nurse said. "Third shifters and drunks."

Ann rubbed her hands over her face and sighed.

"Ann," Gilbert called quietly out behind her. "Can you take me home?"

She looked back to the nurse, unsure if there was any paperwork to be filled out or procedures to be completed, but the nurse nodded.

They drove home in silence, Gilbert's cheek pressed against the window of the car, glassy eyes watching the blurry trees pass them on the highway. Ann kept her fingers on the wheel, trying her best to keep her focus centered on the snowy January roads. The car had grown cold, so Ann reached a hand over to turn up the heat and face the vents toward Gilbert, who'd forgotten to take a coat when he left the house.

"I don't know how to plan a funeral," he admitted quietly.

"I do," Ann said, "I'll help you. I'll write the obituary and call the hospital and funeral home in the morning."

Gilbert nodded his head, then turned to look at her.

"At home. We'll have the funeral at home."

"Whatever you want," Ann said, pulling into his driveway. The gray house was all shadows when the pair walked up the front porch steps, Ann's hand entwined with Gilbert's to keep him standing. She released his hand and watched him collapse on the couch, face turned away from her. She stood across the room for a few seconds, watching his chest rise and fall with an odd, unsteady rhythm. But then, as if a switch had been flipped in her mind, she began to work.

Caring for Gilbert was much easier than she could have anticipated, not because his pain was less than she expected, but because her heart knew his needs without having to be told. She knew that he was most comfortable when he had his own pillow and the large blanket his mother quilted for him during her pregnancy. Ann wrapped him in his quilt and placed the pillow beneath his head wordlessly, wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye as she stood up.

Gilbert watched as she moved quietly around the room and turned down pictures that had his father in them, knowing that seeing them would hurt too much. Even in his grief, or maybe because of it, he had a strange, quiet realization. Ann Shirley-Cuthbert was quite possibly the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on, with her messy bun of auburn hair and strength in her brave shoulders. Bathed in the moonlight coming in through the windows, he could stared at the milky skin of her neck and the tear trails on her cheeks.

Then she came to his side with a plate of peanut butter toast and a shot of whisky.

"How'd you know where that was?" he murmured in a scratchy voice, nodding down at the shot glass. He brought the copper substance to his lips and let the burn travel down his throat.

"I've watched you sneak it out a few times," she confessed. "I brought you some toast in case you're hungry."

He wasn't, but he took a bite out of it to soften the worry lines on her forehead.

"Thanks," he said, mouth dry from the peanut butter. "You can go home now, Ann. I'll be fine."

"If you think I'm leaving you now, Gil, you've got another storm coming," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "If you want to be alone, I can go up to the guest room."

"No, I don't want to be alone."

Ann nodded, standing up to take the chair next to the couch, but Gilbert opened his arms, causing Ann to pause. With no room on either side of him, she settled with her chest pressed to his, legs tangled together. She thought back to the day of Matthew's surgery, how she'd wanted Gilbert to hold her just like this in her own sadness. That day she'd been too distracted to notice how her heart raced in his chest. Now she was acutely aware of the effect of his breath in her hair and the intimacy of her heartbeat thumping to the same tempo as his.

She thought he'd fallen asleep when she murmured into his shirt, "Do you think you'll be okay, Gil?" To her surprise, his embrace tightened and she felt a tired sigh blow through her hair.

"Someday," was his whispered reply.

/

The wake, funeral, and reception went by in a blur to Ann and Gilbert, who played hosts to dozens of bodies coming and going through the Blythe household. Ann stayed by Gilbert's side throughout the four days, knowing how exhausting it must have been to spend the last weeks of winter break in mourning. Marilla and Matthew helped too - Marilla bringing by meals and clean clothes for Ann, Matthew coming to fix the wood furnace in Gilbert's living room when it malfunctioned hours before the reception. Diana came by to help clean the house for a few hours because, _You're supporting Gil, Ann, but who's supporting you?_ And when it was all finally over, Ann felt like she could release a breath she had been holding onto since Gilbert called to pick him up from the hospital.

Perhaps she relaxed a little too soon.

"I'm sorry, _what?"_ she choked out. She and Gilbert were sitting on the docks of the Lake of Shining Waters, the pond that separated the Barry and Cuthbert lands. Ann's face was white, even paler with the sunlight reflecting off of the snow and onto her cheeks.

"It'd just be for a year, Ann. I just have to get out of here for a little bit," Gilbert said, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Walking through Avonlea is like walking beside the ghosts of my past."

"I've haven't left your side for the past two weeks and you haven't thought to tell me about this?"

"I knew if I told you I was thinking about it, you'd react like this."

"And how am I reacting?"

Gilbert took a deep breath and gave a melancholy smile.

"Heartbroken enough that it'd make me consider staying."

A small little sob escaped her lips and she stood up. She looked out over the frozen pond with its icy fractals, puffs of hot breath blowing fog in front of her face.

"No, I won't ask you to stay. I know why you have to leave," she said finally, wiping her cheeks.

"Just think about the sorts of cool souvenirs I can send back from an internship on a cruiseliner. The first stop is Trinidad, you know."

She turned back to him, biting her lip to keep from smiling. There was no staying angry at Gilbert Blythe for long.

"You'll call?" she asked.

"Everyday."

"And send pictures?"

"As many as you want."

"And when you come back, you'll finish school?"

"It's just a gap year, Ann. I'm not waving the white flag yet."

Ann crossed her arms over her chest and set her face into his shoulder. She hadn't expected this turn of events, otherwise she'd have cherished his company more, paid more attention to making lasting memories. He brought a hand up to her head and ran his fingers through her hair in a way that was so very Gilbert.

"I'll miss you too," he said gently. "I can't thank you enough for everything you've done since Dad…"

"You've done the same for me," she said, pulling back.

"Still, I appreciate it."

Their gazes lingered on each other's for a few seconds, bringing back that same warmth that had started blooming in Ann's chest whenever she really looked at him. How easy it would be to just rise onto her toes and press her lips against-

"Well, I better start packing," Gilbert said, clearing his throat. Ann blinked a few times, turning her heated cheeks toward the ground.

"Do you want some help?"

An affectionate spark lit up in his eyes.

"I wouldn't mind some company. The house is a little lonely."

Two days later, a small crowd of Gilbert's favorite people followed him to the Public Bus station. He carried two suitcases with him, his other belongings already mailed to the cruise liner that was to be his home for a year. Ann walked in pace with him at his side, with Diana and their friend Jeri trailing behind. The rest of their friends would be meeting them there, Charlie and Moody, Ruby and Jane.

"I didn't think everyone would spend their last day of break saying goodbye to me," Gilbert admitted as he laid eyes on the crowd waiting for him.

"Everyone loves you, Gilbert. Some more than others," Jeri said, pushing a long strand of brown hair out of her face. She gave Ann a sneaky, sly grin, only to be shot daggers in return. Before Ann could say anything terribly embarrassing, the group at the bus station exploded with _They're here!_ and _There you are! You finally quit dragging your asses!_

Ann was quiet as everyone said their goodbyes to Gilbert, who was nearly rendered speechless at the overwhelming explosion of affection on his behalf. His eyes lingered over to her every few seconds, noticing her unusual silence as easily as if she'd been yelling. When she was the only person left to say goodbye, he walked up to her and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Whatcha thinking about, Ann-girl?"

"I'm wondering who I'm going to study with, or who's going to come annoy me at Patty's Place when you're gone."

"I'm sure Roy Gardner will be happy to fill my shoes."

"Big pass," she groaned, nudging him in the stomach with her elbow. "It's gonna be a long year without you, Gil."

"You too," he replied in a reverent murmur. "But I'll call and text and send pigeon mail and smoke messages just as promised." She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, but he could tell there was something waiting on the tip of her tongue. "What is it?"

"I'm about to do something I probably shouldn't do in front of all of our friends," she stated seriously.

Gilbert felt his heart leap into his throat, and he swallowed it back with difficulty. There was nowhere else to look but down at Anne, red hair in two braids down the front of her sky blue winter jacket and freckles like snowflakes floating on her cheeks. The chatter or their friends had either fallen silent or he'd simply grown unable to hear it. Ann rose her brows as if asking for permission, and he nodded, entranced and grinning.

Then she was holding the sides of his face and kissing him. Tension drained from them the second their lips made contact, like a long carried weight finally gone from their shoulders. Gasps came from their friends, but neither minded, content to stay held in a tender embrace.

When she pulled back, Gilbert had to remind himself where he was, what he was doing. The look in her eyes was almost enough for him to reconsider the whole internship and stay home to kiss her as long as he wanted.

"They just gave last call for boarding," she reminded him quietly. Gilbert nodded, not really hearing her. Ann laughed. "That means get on the bus, you idiot!"

Gilbert blinked, looking around at their smug friends.

" _Oh!_ Right. I'm going. See you guys soon." He picked up his bag, turned around, took two steps, then turned right back around. Ann, who had deflated the second he'd gone, let out a small gasp when he marched right back up to her.

"Let me take you to dinner when I get back," he said bravely. Ann let out a half hysterical laugh and covered her face in her hands.

"Okay, okay! Just get on the fucking bus. It's going to leave without you."

"You will?" he asked, crooked grin on his face.

"I said I would!" she laughed, then horror crossed her face. "Gilbert, they're closing the back doors, get on there!"

He pressed his lips to her cheek, gave one last wave to his friends, and jogged onto the bus. It pulled off before they could find the window he sat by and give their last goodbyes. Then it had pulled out of the station, a distant speck in the horizon, Diana pulled an arm around Ann's shoulders. She might've said something, but Jeri cut her off.

"Well, it's about damn time," she stated.

"Leave her alone, Jer," Diana scolded, then tugged Ann closer to her side."Come on, babe, let's get you home."

/

The kitchen smelled of dried cranberry and crush rose petals several mornings later, the sun dripping in through the translucent cream curtains. When Ann came down the creaky stairs, she found Marilla working over the stove with her back turned to her. The older woman had her long gray hair tied in a single braid down her back, a style which made people who didn't know her assume she was some sort of nonconformist.

Anne stood in the doorway, enjoying the swell in her heart at the comforting sight of Marilla at work. Then she pulled her phone out and snapped a picture of the scene for days when it was raining and lonely in Kingsport.

"Morning, Ma," Ann said lowly, as not to startle her. The nickname was one that had originated from Ann's pressing desire to address Marilla as Mom, and Marilla's insistence that Ann merely call her by the name her parents had given her.

"Good morning, Ann," Marilla replied, wiping her arm against her sweaty brow. "You're just in time. Can you hand me the rose oils? I can't read the small print on the bottles."

Ann swept across the fragrant kitchen over to the counter, where Marilla had her open case of essential oils.

"Who are you making soap for this time?" she asked, rifling through the tiny vials in search for the rose colored one.

"I'm making a large batch this time. I'll be donating some to the church for their craft sale, but you may take the extras and send them to Gilbert if you'd like."

"Ah, found it!" Ann said triumphantly, handing Marilla the oils. "Is that your long winded way of suggesting that Gilbert isn't bathing?" Marilla sent a glare over her shoulder, mixing the soap in the warm pan. "No, Gilbert doesn't like soaps that are too sweet. Diana might like some, though! She's been having a hard time at home."

Marilla turned off her mixer.

"Why's that? Her parents aren't fighting, are they?"

"No, it's not that. They just...share different opinions with her on certain things, I guess. It breaks her heart to see her parents talk the way they do."

"You don't ever feel that way about me, do you?" Marilla asked carefully. Ann draped an arm around Marilla's back and leaned her head on her shoulder. She took a deep breath, inhaling the aromatic perfume of the soap, then handed Marilla the bowl of dried berries and petals.

"Not even a little."

At that moment, the back door swung open with a creak, followed by familiar heavy footsteps. Matthew appeared then, wiping his hands on his jeans and smiling at his girls.

"I see Rachel convinced you to make that soap, after all."

"She reminded me of my 'Presbyterian duty' and was more than happy to remind me of all the filthy people just waiting to be cleaned by the soap of the Lord."

"Oh I see," Ann said with a nudge. "You just wanted her to shut up."

Marilla chuckled, turning off the heat on the stove.

"You watch how you talk about her today. She'll be here any minute now and you know how that woman doesn't knock before making herself at home."

"Wait, why is Mrs. Lynde coming over?" Ann grabbed a piece of Wonderbread from its bag and stuffed it into her mouth. "Did someone die recently? Get pregnant? Find their long lost twin on Eharmony and have tear jerking reunion?"

"Rachel doesn't _always_ come over to gossip, Ann," Marilla scolded.

"Come on, Marilla, you have to admit that she's only ever over when she wants to talk shit about people."

"Language, Ann," Matthew said with a cup of morning coffee at his lips. Ann knew he wasn't terribly upset, since he hadn't even bothered to look up from his newspaper.

"If you _must_ know, Miss Shirley Cuthbert, Rachel is coming over to drive me to the optometrist. I have an eye surgery today. I won't be able to drive afterwards."

"You didn't tell me you were having surgery done," Ann murmured. "Is it serious? Why can't Matthew drive you?"

"It's nothing to worry about. Matthew has things to accomplish and Rachel needs to get out of the house every now and again," Marilla insisted, pulling off her crafting apron and folding up. "Now, don't you have somewhere to be soon?"

She gestured down at Ann's outfit, a tie dye shirt and a pair of boyfriend jeans with a tiny flag sticking out of the back pocket. The flag and shirt featured three colors - fuschia, purple, and blue. To top it off, she had a pin above her heart that read _Kiss Me, I'm Bi!_

"Oh Marilla, my first pride officially out of the closet!" Ann said excitedly. "I just wish everyone could be so lucky."

"That's why you're going today, Ann-girl," Matthew said, sticking his mug in the sink and then pressing a kiss into her red hair. "Lots of people don't know that's okay to be who they are, but you're an expert in that."

"I suppose I am," she agreed quietly.

"Stay safe. Call me if you want to come home and I'll pick you up," Matthew said. Anne was about to utter her thanks when Rachel Lynde came bursting into through the door. She pulled off her flashy sunglasses, sticking them in her purse, then took one look at the college student standing unashamedly in the kitchen. Then she turned right to Marilla.

"The kids of today are losing their minds," Rachel remarked.

"Oh thanks Mrs. Lynde," Ann said sarcastically, "I'm only standing _right here._ "

"I'm just saying that-"

"Rachel, do I need to I remind you about Harmon Andrews' party back in '73 when you and Nancy McLean -"

" _Marilla!"_ Rachel choked out, but the damage was done. Ann's brows were raised into her hairline as she tried, and failed, to take the image of Rachel's sapphic experiences out of her mind. "We'll be late for your appointment!"

Rachel grabbed Marilla by her wrist, dragging her toward the back door.

"I guess we're off. Have a nice time, Ann!" Marilla called, grabbing her purse from the back table before she could be completely kidnapped.

"I suppose that means I should get going, too," Ann said to a red faced Matthew. "I'll be back to make dinner."

She was standing on the park staircase handing out various flags to empty handed passersby when she saw him. He was a lanky fellow, long limbs and honey colored hair. He had some sort of book in his hands, bounded in a mustard yellow fabric, and judging from the fluid motions of his pencil, he was sketching. Ann only noticed him because every few seconds, he'd peer up at her, then snap his eyes back down to his paper before she could think twice about it. Sitting a few steps down, he kept his bag above him to rest his elbow on. The messenger bag had a few tiny buttons on it, one of which was a thumbnail sized rainbow pin.

Ann left her station for a short moment, and took a few steps down to crouch by him. His eyes went wide when he noticed her before him, and watched nervously as she pulled a rainbow flag from her hands and handed it to him.

"Happy pride," she said warmly.

"Thanks," he murmured back, pulling his book against his chest.

"Sorry, I wasn't trying to look at what you were drawing," Ann said. "You just looked so lonely over here all by yourself."

The boy averted his eyes to the pavement but gave a genuine smile that sent a familiar wave of warmth through Ann - the kind that accompanied an interaction with any new kindred spirit. He tugged his book from his chest and handed it to her.

"I hope you don't mind."

Ann's jaw dropped when she saw just what the boy had been drawing. He'd been drawing _her -_ every freckle, every smile line, every loose strand of hair. In fact, Ann didn't think all the instagram staging or filters in the world could ever make her look so beautiful. There was something raw and ethereal about his sketch, something that made Ann want to be the girl on the paper.

"I...I don't know what to say. It's amazing."

"Sorry I drew you without your permission," he said meekly. Ann shook her head.

"There's nothing to apologize for. I'm honored you chose me as your subject. I'm sure there are prettier girls to draw-"

"Aw, come on, that's not true," he cut in. Ann shrugged.

"At any rate, thank you for showing me." Her smile lingered on a moment as she gave him a second to either continue the conversation or return to his work. Bright blue eyes blinked at her, but the boy said nothing. "I should let you get back to it."

Just as she turned to leave, she heard, "I'm Cole."

Ann felt a relieved laugh escape her lips; today was not to be a day of lost kindred spirits, after all!

"I'm Ann," she introduced, sticking a freckled hand in his face, "No E. Though if it were up to me, I'd spell it with an E. Fits my aesthetic a bit more, ya know?"

"I think I can understand that," he said, smiling as Ann settled down beside him.

"Here, take a handful," she said, pulling some more flags out of her pocket. "That is, if you want to help me hand them out?"

"Yeah, sure!" The more he spoke, the more be blossomed into happiness, like a flower that needs like but has been kept under shadows too long. "I tried to sign up to work the event, but I couldn't sneak out of the house without my mom knowing. Even today, she thinks I'm on a field trip for school."

Anne gave a sputtering laugh.

"It's the middle of June!"

Cole shrugged. "My mother isn't known for being the brightest crayon in the box."

"Speaking of which, you're an artist?"

A red hot warmth covered Cole's face, as if he were ashamed to admit it. He pulled the sketchbook back out and opened it to the first page.

"Kinda I guess. I'm not as good as some people."

Star-struck at the beautiful works in his soft journal, Ann flipped through the pages with gentle fingers and a tender eye.

"I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit. These are spectacular. You're an artist for sure."

"Are you an artist too?"

Ann shrugged, thought about it, then shook her head.

"My medium is language, words strung together into pretty constellations of poetry and stories," she said with a flair.

"So...a creative writer?"

"Ding ding ding! But I'm not good enough to make anything of it. Now you, on the other hand, I think you're good enough to do whatever you want."

"Maybe someday," he said, knowing he had to take some of the compliment or risk disappointing her. "Umm, actually, there is- well, that is, if you're _interested._ You can say no! I realize that maybe you wouldn't want to-"

"Cole!" Ann laughed. "Out with it!"

"I've been trying to find someone to model for me so that I can practice more portraits. I think I could really make some decent commission money doing them, but I haven't drawn many - er, women."

Ann's face had fallen with shock, and for a second, Cole thought he'd offended her.

"You know what, that's okay, I shouldn't have asked," he murmured quick under his breath. He handed her the flags and moved to pack his things, but she placed a hand on his wrist.

"Wait. I'm not upset you asked me, Cole, I'm just...I was serious when I said there are prettier girls to draw. My looks are nothing special."

"Well I beg to differ. I look at pretty things for a living and before we met, I was looking at _you._ Maybe it can help us both out. I can show you how you look through the eyes of other people."

"I know already how people look at me."

"I mean the ones that count."

Ann flipped back to the sketch Cole had been drawing of her minutes ago, and stared at it for a second. Then she made the mistake of looking up at his hopeful eyes, the ones that longed for a kindred spirit for too long, the ones that had taken this one risk.

"Fine, I'll do it. But it's your fault for choosing me if your pieces come out looking odd."

/

They met every Tuesday in the late afternoon. Ann chose the time because she said it was when the sun was directly outside her window, bathing her the pastel turquoise of her room with "the most beautiful golden light in all of Avonlea." She could have chosen three in the morning seven days a week for all he cared, he just wanted out of his house. Besides, if he'd brought a _girl_ home, he knew for sure that his mother would say, "Cole MacKenzie, did you finally get over that homosexual phase you were in?"

Ann's home was one were he felt safe, the first few visits showing him all he needed to see of Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert, the kind siblings who'd adopted Ann.

"How long ago did you come out to Marilla and Matthew?" Cole asked one day, not taking his eyes off the intricate details of his sketch. Ann herself sat in the window seat, cross legged and looking off to the right.

"Matthew knew from the first day," she confessed. "I was sitting outside my group home in Bolingbroke. One of the boys had just teased me about having a crush on one of the girls from school. Really, I think he was just projecting a bunch of his bullshit onto me. Matthew originally intended to adopt _him -_ he and Marilla had planned on adopting a boy, and James was the only guy in the house - but then he met me and the plans changed. Matthew heard all about my crush at our first meeting, among other things. I talked his ear off."

"And it didn't bother him even a little?" Cole couldn't imagine the unconditional acceptance of a parent, not with the way things were in his household.

"Nope. He never dated women, so I've often wondered...But in the end, his acceptance of an LGBT youth was what convinced my case worker to assist him with the adoption. The rest is history. I told Marilla several months later, and was officially out in Avonlea earlier this year. All of it made for a very undramatic coming out story."

"You're one of the lucky ones," he murmured bitterly.

"I am. I'm blessed," she replied sincerely. "But Cole, you're my friend now. You're part of this family, whether you like it or not. You'll be one of the lucky ones soon."

Cole smiled at this, considering offhandedly that she was right about the sunset in her window. In that moment, she looked like a fiery angel, fierce and strong.

"I'm already one of the lucky ones," he decided.

The moment was broken by Ann's phone chiming with a recognizable little chime. Ann didn't budge, but only moved her eyes to see her phone sitting on the seat beside her. A smile erupted on her face and she broke her pose, swiped across her screen, and held the phone up.

"Hey stranger!" she said.

" _Hey yourself, carrots."_ He was as lovely as she remembered, with those soft brown curls and warm hazel eyes. His face lit up as soon as he'd seen her, and Ann was sure she mirrored the expression. It'd been so long since he'd had time to call, giving her plenty of time to remember parting at the bus station.

"You're lucky I've missed you too much to acknowledge that _abominable_ you just called me," she said sweetly. "Oh, Gil, how are you?"

Instead of Gilbert answering, she heard another voice come in from the background.

" _Alright Blythe, the shower is yours, but don't take too lon-"_ A face appeared in the screen, bearded and dark eyed. " _Is that your girl there? Ann?"_

Gilbert swatted the man away as Ann laughed, "Guilty!"

" _Can't a guy make a call home in peace? Ann, that's Bash, one of the guys I met working here."_

Cole came around and poked his mop of blonde strands into the frame.

"Any friend of yours is a friend of mine," Ann said. "This is Cole, the friend I told you about from pride."

" _Oh hey, man! Nice to finally put a face to a name!_ "

"Cole, this is Gilbert, my…" Ann gaped for a second, causing Gilbert to raise his brows. "This is Gilbert."

"I've heard lots of good things about you," Cole said with a smile. "Medical man, right?"

" _The very same,"_ Gilbert replied.

"Hey, Gil, I thought you were rooming with that Nova Scotia man. What was his name? Matthew? Marcus?"

" _Maddox,"_ Gilbert offered. " _Bash's roommate was being a racist asshole, and so the room director let us switch."_

" _The man didn't want to shower in the same place I had. Can you imagine?"_ Bash cut in.

"Oh, I think I could," Cole grumbled the same time Bash called out, "Oh, _tell her the news, man!"_

"News?" Ann said carefully. "Everything alright?"

" _No no, everything's great. Seriously, Ann, you'd be the first to know if something was wrong. I have a feeling you'd feel a disturbance in the bosom connection between the two of us."_

"Now wait a second-"

" _But I called to let you know that my supervising doctor onboard is thrilled with my performance the last few months. He wants to get in touch with a colleague at the University of Toronto. You know, set me up an interview so that I could meet the board and get a head start on planning for grad school. It's an amazing opportunity, and a great connection to have. Plus, the University of Toronto is one of my top choices."_

"That's great, Gil, but isn't that...you know, really far away?"

" _Not any farther than Trinidad and the rest of the Caribbean."_

Ann bit her lip and forced herself to smile. While Gilbert was off saving lives and delivering babies, where would she be? In the back of his mind?

"Don't forget about the small people when you're becoming a big fancy doctor."

" _Forget about you, Queen Ann? Never."_ Ann blushed, feeling the same way that she might if he suddenly told her he was in love with her - heart racing, stomach fluttering. Suddenly the image on the screen shifted away to a very passionate face of a very passionate Bash.

" _Oh Ann, I wish I could tell you of my plans for you once I graduate medical school! I'm going to be a biiiiig fancy doctor and we'll get a biiiiig fancy house."_

" _Hey!"_ Gilbert cried. The image on the screen turned into a rollercoaster as Bash swung the phone away from Gilbert's grabby hands.

" _And we'll get married and have teeny, weeny little spitfire babies. Twenty of them!"_

" _Sebastian! I'm serious!"_

" _No? How's twenty-five?"_

Ann exchanged an awkward look with Cole, who's smirk gave off tangible energy.

"Gilbert's cute," he murmured knowingly.

" _See!"_ Bash laughed.

Finally Gilbert was able to snag the phone away from his obnoxious roommate, and his distressed face greeted Ann when he finally managed to steady his hand.

" _Sorry about that._ "

"Not at all," Ann said, shaking her head. "It's just nice to hear from you, even in embarrassing circumstances."

" _I know I haven't called much lately. I'll fix that."_

"Effective immediately?"

" _Yes ma'am,"_ Gilbert said officially with a solemn nod of his head. " _Listen, I have to get back to my post soon. I really will call. Next time I want to hear all about how Diana's doing and Marilla's eye surgery, okay?"_

"Yeah, okay," Ann said, forcing her voice to stay even. "Hey, Gil, you know…" If it was Marilla, Matthew, or Diana, the call would have ended with Ann's typical _I love you._ But she couldn't say that now, not to Gilbert. Not because it wasn't true, in fact, each day she knew more and more that it _was_ true. The fact that it was true made it terrifying, especially now that he was thinking of going to Toronto. Cole grabbed her hand where Gilbert couldn't see it, seeing some of her thoughts across her face.

" _What is it?_ " Gilbert probed.

"Take care of yourself, yeah?" she said finally.

"Love you too, Shirley." Ann's heart gave a pleasant little jump. If only he were home. "Talk to you later."

She smiled right as the phone beeped and went black. Ann heaved a heavy sigh and threw her phone onto her bed.

"Well, I feel like my life is complete now that I've finally met Gilbert Blythe: the man, the myth, the legend," Cole said dramatically.

"Oh please, it's just Gilbert," Ann said, settling back into her pose. Taking the cue, Cole grabbed his sketchbook again and sat in front of her.

"But he's not just Gilbert to you."

Ann sighed and gave Cole a surrendering look.

"No, no he's not."


End file.
